


Promises

by lukegray (spacebarista)



Category: The Following
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/lukegray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke's happy when he wakes up. He's not sure if that's right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in my head for a LONG time but avoided it because LOL it hurts. Could be Luke/Giselle, could NOT be. Up to you. They were definitely close, though so I feel like the ambiguity works.

Everything is fuzzy as Luke wakes up. The bed beneath him is soft and plush. That… can’t be right. He hears a soft melody, humming, something familiar. And smells something sweet. Flowery. He can feel fingers carding through his hair. He’s not resting on a pillow, that much is certain. It’s… it’s someone’s lap. Warm, comforting… Was everything else a dream? The hospital? Being stabbed, beaten, and shot? Losing…

Luke blinks his eyes open, clearing his vision. Giselle. The fingers in his hair pause, as does the humming. Instead, he hears soft laughter. 

“Did I wake you, mon cher?”

It’s Giselle’s lap. Giselle’s room. Giselle’s bed and her humming and her voice. But she’s… she… He sits up quickly, ignoring the way it makes his head feel. Because she’s _here_. She’s grinning at him. She’s _alive_. But… how? She squints at him, grin still in place.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just…” He looks around. Everything is just as he remembers it. Her chaotically organized dresser, his coat draped over the back of her chair that he always forgets to take with him, the battered stuffed lion in another chair that she brought with her from France… it’s all the same. His eyes itch and he shakes the feeling, smiling back at her. “I had a nightmare. It’s nothing.” He reaches out to her, letting his thumb brush her chin. “You okay?”

Giselle’s grin widens, and she shrugs, looking away from him to the magazine beside her. “I’m fine. I was just reading. Letting you sleep.” She looks back at him, her expression becoming more coy. “I always forget how cute you look when you sleep. Like a little boy.”

 _And I always forget how lovely you are_ , he wants to say. The nightmare has rattled him. He can’t imagine a world without her in it, like he could never imagine it without his twin. She’s as much his partner as his brother is. Where is Mark, anyway? Is it his night to cook? He usually sits in with Luke and Giselle on slow days and reads, but the chair is empty… A warm hand rests on his jaw, and he focuses back on Giselle. Her hair glows in the light, and she looks concerned… he’s not seen something that beautiful in a _long time_. Or… has it only been a few hours? 

Giselle tilts her head. “You should get back to sleep. You look tired…”

A wave of exhaustion spreads through him, and a yawn comes unbidden. Was he this tired before? He doesn’t want to sleep, not with Giselle here. But she guides him to lie back down so his head rests in her lap, and her fingers resume playing with his hair. 

“Go to sleep, mon cher. I’ll be here when you wake. I promise.”

Luke hums, letting his eyes fall shut once more. “You better.” He drifts back to sleep, her soft humming helping him along.

When he wakes again, Giselle is gone. 

Luke’s not in her bed; he’s cuffed to a hospital bed. He’s not in her room; he’s in a bare, cold hospital room. He’s not at his _home_. But worst of all… _Giselle is gone_.

Reality crashes down around him. He’s in the hospital. He’s been beaten to a pulp by Mike Weston. His brother and mother are God knows where. He’s here because he saved them. He’s here because he went after Ryan Hardy on his own. He’s here because… because…

“You promised,” he mumbled to the empty room. It was his fault. But he can’t think about that. He can’t it’s hard enough to even… His eyes itch. He takes a steadying breath; he can’t rub at his eyes to make the damn itch go away. He wants to stop thinking about it, to focus on getting out of here and back to Mother. Back to Mark. He can’t stop thinking about her. His “number one”. 

“I’ll get Ryan Hardy. I promise.”

Giselle is dead. She can’t keep her promise. But he’ll keep his.


End file.
